


Closet

by loquaciouslass



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, milford is a good dude, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciouslass/pseuds/loquaciouslass
Summary: Milford's not stupid.





	Closet

Closet

Milford’s not actually stupid.

Certainly, he knows that his niece thinks he’s silly, and that the children don’t take him particularly seriously- they are _children_ , after all, and Milford’s strengths are more in helping with maths problems and putting proposals in place to make the town a better place. He may not be able to backflip and he doesn’t have a cool underground lair, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be there with some kind words and hot cocoa when it’s needed. Moderation is, after all, key.

But being unequipped to deal with supervillains and elves doesn’t mean that Milford is _stupid_. He just thinks that whatever is happening between Sportacus and Robbie Rotten is for them to work out. Bessie may tell him what’s happening, and he’ll nod along, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to interfere. Adults can deal with adult things.

That doesn’t mean, however, that there aren’t _lines_ to be crossed, like today.

His closet is making noises.

Usually, that means the children are playing hide and seek, or that Stingy has decided _he_ owns all Mayor Meanswell’s yellow clothes, but _these_ noises are louder, deeper and considerably less giggly. There’s a great deal of banging around. The kind of banging around that comes with too-long-legs trying to fit inside his not that large closet.

Milford pinches his brow. The children are all outside playing in a pool. _He’s_ only inside because there’s paperwork to finish.

There’s been a distinct _lack_ of flipping and shenanigan type noises.

He sighs and sets the forms onto his desk. He’ll never get it done with all the banging. Either something will break or a child will come in and find what is either a particularly rambunctious kitten or their hero in a…compromising position. So, much as Milford wants everyone to be able to work things out, he has to do _something_.

So he goes downstairs and taps on the door, quite softly. “Hello?” He says. “Are you in trouble?”

Barely stifled laughter is the response. “Ah, no- _Robbie shush-_ Mayor Meanswell! Robbie and I are just uh-“

“Get your hand off my-“

“ _Sorry!”_

Milford opens the door like a judgemental parent catching their child sneaking in a cat. Sportacus freezes atop Robbie, where one of his hands is splayed over his chest, and has his rump quite firmly planted in a no-no zone. They at least have the decency to look embarrassed, though it’s good they’re wearing shorts still. Milford clears his throat.

“You know, the more, ahem, traditional location is a bedroom.”

The two men are silent, eyes wide. Milford saw Robbie’s planning documents for his lair. He’s also seen…Sportacus, generally. He’d place money that neither of them has an actual bedroom.

The silence weighs heavy, like a cowpat on a summer’s day.

“Please get out of my closet.”

And so they do, avoiding touching each other while giving ruffled apologies and running off. Milford sighs, again, and sees Sportacus return to the pool with the kids. Robbie is hiding in the shade somewhere.

Milford signs off his paperwork and picks up his phone. “Hello, Sweet Dreams and Co? Yes, I’d like to place an order…”

 

Milford isn’t stupid. He may not be able to backflip or build robots or save kittens from trees, but he’s not _stupid_.

So if Sportacus and Robbie happen to leave him a nice bottle of wine as a ‘best mayor’ gift, he’s not going to interrogate them.

But at least they’re sleeping better.

 

 


End file.
